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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385049">Spring Returned</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlyPhantom/pseuds/GirlyPhantom'>GirlyPhantom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Child Abuse, Concepts, Crossover, Deaf West Spring Awakening - Freeform, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Im trying my best, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Oneshot, Possible Character Death, Short One Shot, Work In Progress, i have things planned but idk if ill go through with it, just skip it if you dont like it, moritz's dad is an ass, passing mentions of smut, pls go easy on me, we'll see</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 22:07:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlyPhantom/pseuds/GirlyPhantom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spring Awakening concepts and oneshots<br/>Basically I think of cool stuff to write about and I post it</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hanschen Rilow/Ernst Robel, Melchior Gabor/Moritz Stiefel, Wendla Bergmann/Ilse Neumann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Injuries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, my name is Kinsley, and I'm gonna try my fuckin best to update this consistently. All you need to know about me is that Spring Awakening is my favorite show and I love coming up with concepts to write about the characters in. Enjoy the weird stuff my brain likes to come up with.</p><p>And so, the first one is going to be Melchior x Moritz (the orignal version, not deaf west)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Melchior had gotten into a fist fight again.</p><p>See, this time it wasn't his fault. He didn't throw the first punch, he simply defended himself against this asshole who started the damn fight to begin with. But this wasn't about that jerk. This was about him and Moritz, specifically, Moritz taking care of him.</p><p>It had become a tradition when they were kids. Melchior had a bad habit of doing stupid shit to get himself hurt as a kid. Not on purpose, everyone in their little group of pirates did stupid stuff quite often, Melchi was just more prone to dumbassery. He influenced quite a few bad decisions the group as a whole made (including climbing to the roof of the church,,, that was a long story) and a lot of those bad decisions always seemed to get him hurt in some way. It was almost never major, usually ranging from scraped knees from falling out of a tree he attempted to climb, to bruises from using sticks as swords. But he always seemed to put himself into harm's way. </p><p>This is where Moritz came in. Now, you would think Wendla would be the nurse of the group, but when she was younger she was more squeamish of blood, so she really couldn't handle it. And Ilse would usually stick back to keep her company while Melchior was getting cleaned up, and therefore this left Moritz to help him. So, it became a sort of tradition, from their friendship and into their eventual relationship that if the curly haired boy found out his boyfriend got hurt, he would take care of him the best that he could, even if he was completely capable of doing it himself. So, when Melchi came to his boyfriend beat up, he was immediately escorted to the bathroom as he explained what happened.</p><p>"This guy, I swear, I was just trying to explain how that whole thing I showed you yesterday, with the government, y'know, how that worked to him, and he just started throwing punches!" The brunette complained as he climbed up to sit on the counter and rolled up his sleeves, Moritz taking out a first aid kit and getting out disinfecting wipes. "He was just a complete ass!" The taller boy had a black eye and some scrapes along his arms.</p><p>"I'm sorry Melchi," the other boy spoke sympathetically as he opened the package for the  wipe, "you're okay other than what I see right now, right?" He had to check, just in case. He didn't want his boyfriend to be hurt just because he missed somewhere to patch up. The boy in question nodded, hissing quietly as the alcohol wipe was gently swiped over his scrapes. His stand-in nurse silently apologized for the lack of warning and time went on. Melchior went back to ranting about how stupid this guy was while Moritz silently listened and took care of him. It was a nice balance. Eventually, he was mostly cleaned up.</p><p>"We should go out and get you some ice for your eye," spoke the smaller of the two, putting the first aid kit away, "but first I have one more thing to help you feel better." He smiled at him, walking closely to Melchior.</p><p>"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow at his approaching boyfriend, causing Moritz to grin, grabbing his arm and placing kisses along the scrapes and doing the same with the other. "Hm, are you sure this will work?" Melchi teased, a smirk across his face as the boy he loved went up on his tiptoes and leaned on the counter ever so slightly to place a kiss at the corner of his injured eye.</p><p>"I'm certain it will."</p><p>"Well, if you're so sure, can you test it on my lips? I think he may have gotten me there too..."</p><p>Moritz's faced flushed slightly, but that didn't stop him from teasing. "I suppose I could, even though you should have told me to begin with that you got hurt there... I should <em>probably</em> be upset at you about hiding important information from me, as your nurse."</p><p>"Shut up and give me a kiss."</p><p>And he did.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. moritz.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>moritz tings</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moritz was the kind of boy to smoke cigarettes with Green Day blasting. He was the kind of boy to hate school and avoid his work. He was the kind of boy that always had messy hair and lived off monster and no sleep. He was the kind of boy who got high and drunk with friends. He was the kind of boy that had dark thoughts and didn't think he was good enough. He was the kind of boy that hated the world but was anxious to impress it.</p><p>But Moritz wasn't just that.</p><p>Moritz was also the kind of boy to enjoy dino nuggets. He was also the kind of boy who just wanted friends. He was the kind of boy that enjoyed warm bubble baths. He was the kind of boy that loved Disney movies. He was the kind of boy who cared about his friends and was giggly and innocent. He was the kind of boy who was sweet and kind. He was the kind of boy who trusted too easily and loved too hard.</p><p>Moritz was the boy that didn't deserve to die, the boy that let what the world thought get to him, the boy who felt alone in a world who didn't value him enough.</p><p>Moritz was just a boy.</p><p>He was just a boy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. melchior</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>melchi, my boi</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Melchior wasn't some goody two shoes kid. He'd speak up in class when he wasn't supposed to. He broke as many rules as he could. He learned about anything 'taboo' that he found. He wasn't afraid to get into a fight. Melchior Gabor didn't care about god, about school, nothing. Well, that was the rumor, anyway.</p><p>He was tough.</p><p>He was tough but he went just a little softer for Moritz.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. ghosts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>moritz had died but melchior could still see him</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moritz had died.</p><p>He had shot himself in the cold snow and he was supposed to be an angel...<br/>...except he wasn't.</p><p>Instead he was a ghost and the only person who could see him was his best friend, Melchior. When he had regained consciousness he was in his friend's room, watching him sleep. Boy was it the surprise of Melchior's life when his friend who died yesterday was floating over his bed.</p><p>Moritz explained to him why he did it. Melchior provided comfort. They talked, and things almost seemed normal.</p><p>Except that nobody else could see Moritz, so it looked pretty crazy when the living would talk to the dead who wasn't there. Not only that, but Melchior hadn't realized he had become too attached to a dead man. But the poor sad ghost realized. Oh, how the small boy felt so sad when he had. Melchior would talk like he wasn't dead and refused to acknowledge the fact when he mentioned it in passing. It was just a tell.</p><p>The dead knew that he had to leave. He knew he had effected poor Melchi's life too much and he deserves to have a good life not hung up on him.</p><p>Melchi loved a ghost.</p><p>And that ghost told him he had to leave and they argued and cried and Melchior told him to hug him and be gone by the time he opened his eyes.</p><p>He was.</p><p>Melchi was alone again. He felt sick.</p><p>Moritz was waiting for him in the afterlife, knowing he had done what was right but feeling nothing but pain.</p><p>One day they would reunite.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bad Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>wow it sure is a bad time</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All Moritz wanted to do was run away. Run away and never ever look back to his home, to his school, to his old life. He wished he had the money to move to America and never look back, but letters to his best friend’s mother had resulted in no more money than he started out with. It wasn’t even like he could get a job now that his father knew he was struggling in school. After all, a job doesn't exactly help you focus on school, as he was told to. If he even asked to get a job, he was sure his father would, well, do what he did last time he asked hypothetical questions. He didn’t want to have to relive that yet again.</p><p>Usually when he felt like this he would break down or do something he would regret. (Well, he was always doing things he would regret, like forgetting a word in Latin or bursting out with something entirely random in a conversation on accident because his mind wandered, but in this case he meant regret more than usual.) He almost always pulled away from everyone as much as he could when he felt like this. He didn’t want anyone to see this side of him, but this time he was so desperate for another person to be with him. He yearned greatly for another to hold him and be by his side through all of this. He swallowed to the urge to run to Melchior’s house and instead chose to roam outside and into a small patch of woods. There, he came upon the person he wanted to see so desperately but avoided so adamantly, sitting by a tree.</p><p>He paused, deciding whether or not to walk away and pretend he was never here, but his decision was made for him when his best friend looked up from the journal he was writing in. He invited him over and Moritz immediately obliged, walking over and sitting beside him, taking up as little space as possible. They sat in silence for a few moments, both in their own little worlds, before the braver of the two spoke up.</p><p>“Where have you been lately?”</p><p>The shorter of the two wasn’t entirely sure how to answer, how was he supposed to say this? He was a failure and he didn’t think Melchior should have to deal with failures. Melchi deserved so much better than him, and he knew it. He’s been running, even if he wasn’t away. That’s where he’s been, but of course he could never say that out loud.</p><p>“I- uh- lots of homework. I guess.”</p><p>“We used to do that together, you know.” The other spoke immediately, looking to the curly haired mess beside him, who continued to stare forward, swallowing thickly.</p><p>“I- I mean. Yeah. But- well.” He breathed out a breathy sigh, looking to his lap, “my father wouldn’t be happy with me if I hung out with anyone.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>The question hung thick in the air for a moment, Moritz wasn’t sure if the tension was there just for him or for both of them. He took in a quick breath, trying to give himself courage to say what he needed to say. What he couldn’t even bare to tell himself.</p><p>“I failed, Melchi. I’m not going to be allowed into the next level.”</p><p>There was a long silence, one that hurt his ears to even hear. However, the next thing his best friend said was really what hurt.</p><p>“I knew you couldn’t do it.” They looked at each other, one in shock and the other in amusement, “you were never smart enough to make it any farther.” A cool laugh rang through the air, chilling the pale boy to his bones.</p><p>“Melchi-...I- I should go.” He stood up quickly, looking at the other with wide eyes before running off. He swore he could hear the other’s laughter and mocking tone in the distance as he ran off, saying something about him always running away. Moritz was in too much shock to even listen to what he had said, he just kept running. Had his house (not his home, not anymore) always been so far? He ran for what felt like hours before collapsing into an empty field. Sobs racked his body, hugging himself tightly. What had he done to deserve this hell? Maybe simply existing. His existence seemed to be a living punishment. He heard footsteps behind him, turning around suddenly, he saw-</p><p>He woke up, tears streaming down his face. He stared at his wall for a moment, hugging his pillow tightly. He pondered the dream, which didn’t help the pit of anxiety in his stomach. God, he hated this feeling. He may have still wanted his best friend, but now he refused to even try to get in contact with him. Dream Melchi may not have been real Melchi, but the fear of his nightmares coming true haunted him. He remained alone. </p><p>He may have wanted to run away from his problems, but one couldn’t run away from his own mind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Emotions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>me? not writing about melchi and moritz? shocking. it's ernst and hanschen time bb</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hanschen may seem insensitive or uncaring, but he cared plenty about things, trust him. Well, if not, he did at least care about one thing, and that had to count for something, right? Especially since that one thing was his boyfriend. And he didn't just care for him, he loved him.</p><p>Ernst Robel.</p><p>Hanschen would never understand what he did to deserve someone as sweet as him, but he did the best he could not to ruin a chance such as this. A chance to show him he could be good to him. Emotions were hard for the blond, though, so maybe it had a hard time showing sometimes. However, he did his best.</p><p>Ernst knew he did his best. Ernst helped him. Ernst loved him too.</p><p>And they were okay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. self promo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>y'all should go onto my profile and give my actual good independent spring awakening oneshots a read</p><p>one is about moritz, i wrote it a long time ago idk</p><p>the other is about wendla and i posted it more recently (i particularly like this one)</p><p>also i swear i can write better than i do here i just post whatever i think of here and its usually short so :///</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. poor moritz</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>so i keep finding old stuff i wrote a long time ago. so it goes here</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moritz couldn’t sleep. Of course this wasn’t new; being an insomniac meant many, many sleepless nights. What was different, however, was the fact that he wasn’t up haunted by a pair of stockings. He wasn’t kept up by the need for someone. He wasn’t kept up by an angel standing over him; he was kept up by a thought. A thought he thought he would never be thinking.</p><p>The thought that he may not be ‘straight’ has he originally believed.</p><p>The thought truly scared him, being raised in a house where it was presented as one of the worst possible things he could be (along with one of the things he already was, namely, a failure.) Was he truly destined to be that much of a disappointment?  That much of an embarrassment to his family? He had already been cut off once, if he was for a second time he may never be let back in. He knew how this sort of thing worked, and it would never fit into his father’s perfect plan for him. So why was the thought still lingering? Moritz sat at the edge of his bed, tapping his heal against the floor repeatedly while tapping his fingers obsessively against the soft sheets of his bed. In fact, he could barely keep himself from scratching at his arms on an impulse. He’d felt this level of anxiety before, quite often in fact. In the late nights of studies in particular, during last summer when he didn’t understand certain things he would stay up all night like this. It almost felt like he was in a manic episode of some kind (which he was, but he wouldn’t know as much.)</p><p>Having realizations such as this never came easy to him. He had been trained and been training himself to be what his father seemed to consider “normal,” pushing himself to meet unrealistic expectations and muffle who he was as a person just to be considered ‘correct’. Even the people who were closest to him didn’t know him as they think they did. After all, how can anyone truly know you when you don’t even know yourself and who you are? And how are you supposed to do such things when you are never given the chance to find out?  But he was starting to wake up, and it was one of the most frightening things he had been through. He was learning he wasn’t normal and he couldn’t stop that. He still resisted, however, remembering the pain he had been through last spring and summer. Every other day he had a break down, and when he didn’t have a break down, all he could feel was numb. He vowed he would never put himself through that again.</p><p>This led him to his current crisis.</p><p>He would have to put himself through that again if he truly did like boys. Of course that would only happen if his dad found out, but his dad had a million ways of finding such things out. Moritz had become good at lying to him, but his dad had also become good at noticing Moritz’s small slip ups. He became good at detecting how his demeanor or stance changed as he said something untrue. He may be a good liar, but his dad was a better detector. He knew this, and he also knew that there was always the possibility for someone other than Moritz to slip up too, if he were to tell anyone. Though he didn’t know what he would tell them if he were to tell them anything, being as, as much as he liked boys, he also liked girls. Maybe not as often, he would admit, but he still did. Ilse was living proof of this, although she couldn’t even bare to look at him anymore.<br/>Moritz was totally fucked was the conclusion his thoughts jumped to. He sighed, burying his face into his hands, tugging at his thick hair. What if someone figured out who and what he was before he even did? What was he to do then? Would he make it through, or try to do that again? And, oh god, what if he failed again if he did? Sometimes he swore he regretted not succeeding more than he did trying it in the first place. He tugged harder, running his fingers deeper into his hair, tears in his eyes. He buried his face in his knees; he couldn’t handle the small amounts of light in the room any further as his thoughts spiraled faster and faster. He couldn’t even keep up with himself at this pace. He stayed like that for a few moments before suddenly standing, grabbing his phone, rushing out of his room, and out of the house into the streets. </p><p>He knew his dad would not be happy if he found out he had left, but it was 3am and he had seemed exhausted the evening before, so Moritz relied on the hope he would stay asleep through his short adventure. He just needed somewhere outside of his room and out of the stuffy and burdening house for a change. He roamed the streets for a short while before reaching a bench and sitting down, taking a deep breath. He had managed to calm himself down enough to think without thoughts he wasn’t meant to think, and tried to think rationally again. Maybe because he liked both, it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe if he focused on the straighter side of things it would become less of a problem, but with how often he thought of other guys in such a way, he didn’t know how long he could keep such a thing up.</p><p>Then he wondered, was there such a thing as liking both? Or else, did he have to choose?  He thought about it a moment and pulled his phone out of his pocket, giving up his struggle not to,out of fear his search history would be checked, and googling his question. He was met with answers and articles and acceptance. He sat there reading for over an hour, actually being able to focus on it for longer than a few moments.  And he discovered he wasn’t alone. For the first time all night he was still, he wasn’t panicking or pacing. He didn’t have to be talking himself down. He was okay. He felt a small smile creep onto his face as he read and dug deeper, answering all his questions, and although everything wasn’t solved, he felt like he might actually be okay. He put his phone down and stared at the stars, a newfound peace within him. The newly discovered bisexual boy felt safe, even for just a moment. Accepted for just a moment. Okay for just a moment.</p><p>And all was still. And all was right.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Ilse makes an entrance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>another old thing I found</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ilse knew it wasn't her fault. She knew that, if someone were to do something like this, you had to be thinking about it for a long time. After all, she had been in a similar position for a long time, however she couldn't help but have a small, truly haunting thought about the entire situation. What if this was her fault? After all, if she hadn't ran away from Moritz so abruptly, without him realizing what he had even done, would he still have tried what he did? It was truly a chilling thought to her, as she made her way back to Priapia with the pistol he had used in her small hands. She thought about his cold small frame being carried from the ground he had decided was worthy of being his final place alive and put into the ambulance she had called so that it hopefully wasn't. Funny, she didn't even know where she was sleeping tonight and she was concerned for her childhood friend, who was currently being rushed to the hospital. </p><p>As she made her way to the trash heap which she spent her nights sleeping on when no one would take her in, he couldn't stop the thoughts flooding into her mind. If she hadn't stormed off like that, would he still have done it? Sure, he had clearly been trying to get her away, now she knew that, however at the time she didn't know why. She thought that maybe he had noticed her advances and was simply attempting to decline them, however now she knew otherwise. Well, maybe it was that too, but in that situation did it really matter?</p><p>She spun the horrible weapon in her hands as she sat, her back leaning against the wall behind her. She pondered, could she have been able to stop him? It was a genuine question that loomed over her mind, sucking her up whole. The bohemian knew she hadn't been around in a long time, considering her own situation, however could she have gotten through to him if she had hurried back as soon as she heard him call her name out? Why had she let her anger overcome her in that moment? Why hadn't she been unselfish enough to acknowledge the pain lacing his tone? She felt tears beginning to fill her eyes and decided to let herself cry, something she hadn't let herself do for a very long time. </p><p>Poor Moritz, he didn't know how valued he was, even if it wasn't always by the people who surrounded him. Ilse wondered if anyone really noticed the signs before? Had Melchior? She cut off her own thoughts, realizing the boy's best friend didn't yet know. Did this really have to fall to her? She supposed it was the right thing to tell him, as painful as it was. She pulled out her phone, using the last of her battery from when she charged it at a cafe earlier. She typed out a simple message to the boy she hadn't tried to message in months.</p><p>"hey melchior, moritz is on his way to the hospital right now. he tried to kill himself."</p><p>She stared at the message for a while before sending it, unbelieving that she had really typed such a horrible thing. She hit send, not trying to soften the blow in fear that she would make it worse by mentioning her hand in it, before putting down the phone and the gun and crying into her hands. Was this her fault? She supposed she would never know.</p>
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